


The Downfalls of Trust

by Absolutely_Barbaric, Whumpadoodle



Series: Request Fics [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illness/injury, OCs (not mine), Requests, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolutely_Barbaric/pseuds/Absolutely_Barbaric, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whumpadoodle/pseuds/Whumpadoodle
Summary: A fic requested by Whumpadoodle for their lovely OCs Marcus and Scarlett; this was really fun to do!Marcus' endless ability to see the good in people gets him into deep trouble. Luckily, it gets him out of it, too.





	The Downfalls of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again Whumpadoodle for requesting this fic, I absolutely adored your OCs' relationship!

Kind gestures did not always reap kind karma in return.

 

Marcus learned this on a night so peaceful it had to be sacred. It might have been karma from the future that things were going so well; food supplies were good, Scarlett was in a light mood, even the hours spent bumping heads over a strategy map had been powdered with keen jests and an overall sense of unstoppable confidence. The woods they found themselves camped in were serene like no other, untouched by colonization or overbearing wildlife to make their resting spot hazardous. To presume the best of strangers and their intentions in a state like this couldn’t be blamed. It could only be learned from.

 

It happened when they were already asleep. After bidding Scarlett a joyful goodnight and watching her head off into her tent, Marcus had been resting for a while in his own when a voice was heard from around the ashes of their previous campfire. Imagining it couldn’t be anything more than a couple of lost hunters, he lifted the tent flap to find Scarlett unsurprisingly brandishing her sword against a half a dozen grisly looking men and one woman. She was eyeing Scarlett without fear, something that did indeed surprise Marcus just a little.

 

“Might I ask your business with us?” He stood firm, ready to let only a fair answer ease him up a bit. The woman who appeared in charge turned from Scarlett as if to blatantly ignore her, which she took with a pinch of indignation.

 

“I can’t apologize enough for waking you,” the woman said, “It’s so late at night and all. You see, the six of us are merchants with quite the assortment of textiles to transport. We would be well on our way to the city, if it hadn’t been for the wheel on our poor wagon breaking. None of us are exactly the finest mechanics.” Her smile was the kind that made you smile back, even against your own will. Marcus nodded at their dilemma and waited for her to go on. “We’ve walked a long way to find anyone who could lend us a hand. Would you be up to the task at this late hour? Or maybe your lady friend? With such a manly sword, I’d imagine she could be rather skilled in areas of labor.”

 

“For a merchant, you speak like a snooty aristocrat,” Scarlett muttered. “I don’t buy your story for one second.”

 

“Our story? What other reason could we have to approach you? If we were up to no good, you certainly would have scared us off.”

 

There was only so much Marcus knew she could take before he would have to step in, lest a poor merchant be challenged to more of an execution than a fight. He held his hand out between them, giving his most diffusing smile despite taking slight offense on Scarlett’s side. “We’ll help you. It shouldn’t take too long, right?”

 

“What a relief!” the woman beamed. “My name is Ester, pleasure to meet you. You are?”

 

“Irritated,” Scarlett muttered.

 

“I’m sorry, dear, I was referring to this lovely man.”

 

“Marcus.” As much as he wanted to dispel the steadily building tension, his smile was faltering with each insult thrown his partner’s way. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to help anymore, or at the very least, he didn’t want to keep her awake for someone so unpleasant. “It’ll only take one pair of hands. I should be back before too long, Scarlett.”

 

Not at all convinced, she stared Ester down with the true intent to vaporize her via eyes alone, but it didn’t work. It never worked. “Return hastily, my lord,” she gave in, “There is an abundance of snakes in these woods.”

 

Ester’s right cheek dimpled with amusement. Marcus scratched the back of his neck and looked between them one last time, afraid he might not get a very happy welcome back once he returned. “Right, then.” Reluctantly, he held out his hand. “Shall we go?”

 

“I’d be delighted.”

 

 

Waking up the second time was painful.

 

 

Marcus lifted his face from the ground with dirt caked in his mouth, a momentary distraction from his wrists being roughly tied behind his back in old ropes. It didn’t take a stretch of imagination as to how he got here. All he needed to assume was that his own stupidity got him into this situation, and that a firm lecture would be awaiting him once he escaped or got rescued, just like he suspected when he left. But maybe it was still stupid to assume either of those things would be so easy. Ester was grinning down at him from what felt like so far above, too far for him to believe she was a simple merchant anymore.

 

She had been as delighted as she said when they left. She was delighted all the way into the deep woods, an uncomfortable contrast to the bumbling men in silence behind her, and to Marcus’ increasing quiet suspicions about how far they would have to walk. He had wondered if he was extra paranoid due to being without a bodyguard, or because Ester, as he began to realize, was actually a little creepy. And now, he knew that he really should have gone with that gut feeling.

 

What tipped him off was their proximity to the border of the woods, and the slow realization that unless all six of them were dumb as rocks or looking for squirrels to help with repairs, they would have gone in the other direction to look for help. Among the infinite very avoidable reasons for his kidnap was that he realized this at the exact wrong time, just as Ester gave a two fingered signal to the brawny man walking too close behind him and then- black. It explained the ache in the back of his neck at least. Now he needed an explanation for the abduction in the first place.

 

“What do you want with me?” he demanded. The ropes were really starting to dig into his wrists. With wavering belief in himself, he hoped that if he could keep a conversation going long enough, he could find a way to convince her to cut them.

 

Ester only rolled her eyes, twiddling a dagger between her thumb and forefinger. “They always say things like that,” she mused, receiving a knowing grin from the lackey by her side. “We don’t want you. We want gold from the people who want you, that’s all there is to it. Are you really so self-important?”

 

Gold. Marcus knew of one person willing and able to pay that price for him. He tsked, utterly refusing to lower his head in any way. “Well, it seems I am rather important. I wouldn’t pay a single copper for you if it was fake.”

 

“Shut him up.”

 

Ester’s words were cool, unlike the brutal force of the kick to his face. He almost couldn’t fathom the pain for a second; it apparently wasn’t important for them to keep him looking good on his way to whoever wanted him. That much also added up pretty well. He grimaced, spitting blood from his busted upper lip. In truth, he did think it best to shut up. But he hadn’t been listening to his own best advice up until this point, so why start now?

 

“Are you that insulted? A woman who restrains and assaults a man who offered his hand to her in a time of need, and all without a price…You must not like the truth.”

 

“You must not like your face. Hit him again.”

 

Ester’s satisfaction was no longer present when Marcus was struck again with the pointed toe of a boot, purposefully aimed in the same spot. Shuddering, he sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, both glad and surprised that they were all still there. His spin was tingling with the desire to curl up or turn away, to at least bow his head in the slightest as primitive self defense, but still he refused.

 

She saw quickly that he would not cry out. Not very easily. For a moment there, Marcus was foolish- and pain dizzied- enough to believe she would respect that and stand down. That was impossible to expect from a person already so dishonorable. She gave another signal, and suddenly a slow groan broke from Marcus as his hair was yanked back, forcing him to chafe his own wrists to bleed by struggling against the ties. He could make himself stay strong, but he couldn’t make his body resist instinct. And there it was again, that sickening satisfaction. If only she knew what was coming.

 

He just had to bide his time.

 

“That…gold you speak of,” Marcus got out through grit teeth, “You weren’t paid upfront?”

 

Ester narrowed her eyes, watchful green irises flickering. She hadn’t yet commanded his release, but was clearly listening. “You’re so keen on telling me what an untrustworthy wench I am. Do you think anyone would trust me to do my job?”

 

Marcus tried to respond, cut off by the poorly stifled grunts of distress. She held out her hand and his head was shoved forward, then let go of. Ropes be damned, he wanted to at least wipe the dripping maroon from his lip. “You didn’t abduct me out of malice, just greed,” he panted, “The man who promised to pay you…knows how naive greed can make a person. He knows you have to resort to this to get by, and that’s why he’s taking advantage of you.”

 

“I see. Lashing out at me didn’t work, so now I’m the poor, misunderstood girl. Who’s trying to take advantage of me again?” Ester’s eyes were aflame now. He hit a sore spot, and now the risks were dire. To say the wrong thing might get him killed out of rage. Saying the right thing might get him cut loose under the condition of never speaking of this again. If he wasn’t so dizzy, he might say the odds were in his favor.

 

“A man with gold to spend on just one person, and one this easy to capture? What makes you think he’ll even keep his promise?” The more Marcus went on, the less he could tell what Ester was thinking. She walked circles around him and still could not seem to come to a conclusion, struggling to piece it all together in her head. Her men watched her in silence with heads slightly bowed. “He’s manipulating you. With all that money, he would have spent it on someone who doesn’t need to rely on promises. Someone who wouldn’t have to go about nasty tricks just to catch their bounty.”

 

He said the wrong thing after all, somewhere along the lines. She’d had enough. He saw the look in her eyes, and he realized for the first time since they met hours ago, he was suddenly terrified of her.

 

The first slap to his cheek was nothing- only compared to what followed. It made it a panic inducing struggle to regain breath when she sent him backwards from a kick to the chest, an obvious attempt to be taken seriously. Which he did. He took the deadly burning in her eyes very seriously, certain she would have killed him when gripping her dagger and looking at him with a thirst for precisely his blood. If she’d only been hasty about it, and not taken her sweet time eliciting agonized hollering out of him by dipping the point between his ribs, piercing him with a sensation he was sure to never forget. It got worse by the second, warm at first with the leak of blood until it was absolutely scalding him, as if she were branding him on the inside.

 

She was going to kill him. That was what she wanted, but Marcus was right to trust how much time he had. Though he would have liked to avoid the new incision that opened his side, he saw from the corner of his eye’s fading vision a face who would not let him die. A face who was very tired because she had not slept at all, but rather had been waiting all this time for his promised return. And now must have traversed an entire forest alone to find him here.

 

It didn’t matter how tired she was; finally finding Marcus and seeing this woman on top of him, Scarlett was snapped awake, cutting down any man who got in her way with attention to speed over fatality and meeting the surprised turn of Ester’s head with the full brunt of her sword. Marcus would have been amazed if she survived even that, but he muttered a tremoring “Stop-” anyways for her sake, freezing Scarlett in her deadly motion.

 

“My lord-”

 

“Leave her,” Marcus choked, struggling again at the ties in the urge to put his hand over his side. Once she severed them, he didn’t know whether to bother rubbing his sore wrists or try to stop whichever part of his body from bleeding. He settled on one palm over his ribs, one nervously feeling over his lip. It wasn’t too bad, nor as excruciating to touch as the cut, but it stung far worse.

 

“My lord, she was going to kill you.” Scarlett was in utter disbelief. What could this woman have said to him to warrant a defense? His good heart was what got him into this situation. She deserved the fate she had coming to her.

 

Marcus shook his head as though watching exactly what she was thinking, something she didn’t doubt he could do but horrified her all the more that he still disagreed. Everything simply hurt too much to talk. At least enough to explain himself at length.

 

“Not death,” he muttered, “Just…leave her.”

 

Scarlett opened her mouth to object, but the argument was petty when she observed every aching inch of Marcus’ body. He needed help more than this woman needed to die. Knelt by his side, she ripped the sleeve from her shirt and dabbed it over his lip before pushing it over his ribs and shrinking back at the whimper that escaped him, much to his embarrassment. There wasn’t much she would be able to do here. If they were a little closer to camp…

 

“Don’t worry-” Marcus tried, effectively coughing all over Scarlett instead of intelligible words. She was too focused on stopping his bleeding to care. “They’ve got to have their own camp somewhere nearby.” He really could read her mind. She watched him carefully, letting her eyes eventually wander past the trees that surrounded them here.

 

“You don’t want me to kill this woman, but you do want to steal their supplies?”

 

“She doesn’t deserve death,” Marcus repeated, shuddering with each breath he took. “But I deserve some of her bandages.” She hadn’t pierced any sort of organ, but the cut was deep enough to stretch every time he inhaled. As soon as Scarlett saw this, she put a hand over his mouth.

 

“You’ll make it worse if you keep on talking.”

 

She felt him grinning underneath her fingers, a slight reassurance that he would be okay but frustrating nonetheless. If they took him all the way here, it was probably because they were indeed camped nearby. And as people of this ilk, they were bound to expect violence on their own end. How could he think so far ahead and still get himself into this much trouble?

 

“Scarlett,” Marcus whispered. Her attention was snapped back to him, hand poised delicately over his wound. “Don’t kill her.”

 

“I’m not going to,” Scarlett said, hushed in return. She could see all to clear that his eyes were becoming hazy, half-lidded and barely focused. The scars weren’t overbearing, but the panic must have been. A second later, he really would have been dead. She’d almost forgotten how long it had been since he even slept in the first place. “We’ll find the camp…They’ve got to have plenty that can help you.”

 

Marcus gave a little nod, letting his head turn to the side into the nature’s comfortable pillow, dirt. She brought the cloth away from his wound and sat rigid all of a sudden, finally having noticed all the red that had already stained the ground despite her attempts at controlling it. Whatever the dagger pierced, it was deeper than they thought. It was still gushing, no matter what pressure she held over it.

 

Marcus smiled back at her unknowingly, sparking a horrible sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Can we sleep first…?”


End file.
